Thriller Novels

The sixth James Bond thriller from Ian Fleming’s typewriter.Dispatched by M to investigate the mysterious disappearance of MI6’s Jamaica station chief, Bond was expecting a holiday in the sun. But when he discovers a deadly centipede placed in his hotel room, the vacation is over.On this island, all suspicious activity leads inexorably to Dr Julius No, a reclusive megalomaniac with steel pincers for hands. To find out what the good doctor is hiding, 007 must enlist the aid of local fisherman Quarrel and alluring beachcomber Honeychile Rider.Together they will combat a local legend the natives call ‘the Dragon,’ before Bond alone must face the most punishing test of all: an obstacle course-designed by the sadistic Dr No himself-that measures the limits of the human body’s capacity for agony. I I HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR punctually at six o'clock the sun set with a last yellow flash behind the Blue Mountains, a wave of violet shadow poured down Richmond Road, and the crickets and tree frogs in the fine gardens began to zing and tinkle. Apart from the background noise of the insects, the wide empty street was quiet. The wealthy owners of the big, withdrawn houses-the bank managers, company directors and top civil servants-had been home since five o'clock and they would be discussing the day with their wives or taking a shower and changing their clothes. In half an hour the street would come to life again with the cocktail traffic, but now this very superior half mile of 'Rich Road', as it was known to the tradesmen of Kingston, held nothing but the suspense of an empty stage and the heavy perfume of night-scented jasmine. Richmond Road is the 'best' road in all Jamaica. It is Jamaica's Park Avenue, its Kensington Palace Gardens, its Avenue D'lena. The 'best' people live in its big old-fashioned houses, each in an acre or two of beautiful lawn set, too trimly, with the finest trees and flowers from the Botanical Gardens at Hope. The long, straight road is cool and quiet and withdrawn from the hot, vulgar sprawl of Kingston where its residents earn their money, and, on the other side of the T-inter-section at its top, lie the grounds of King's House, where the Governor and Commander-in-Chief of Jamaica lives with his family. In Jamaica, no road could have a finer ending. On the eastern corner of the top intersection stands No 1 Richmond Road, a substantial two-storey house with broad white-painted verandas running round both floors. From the road a gravel path leads up to the pillared entrance through wide lawns marked out with tennis courts on which this evening, as on all evenings, the sprinklers are at work. This mansion is the social Mecca of Kingston. It is Queen's Club, which, for fifty years, has boasted the power and frequency of its blackballs. Such stubborn retreats will not long survive in modern Jamaica. One day Queen's Club will have its windows smashed and perhaps be burned to the ground, but for the time being it is a useful place to fi

New York Times bestselling author James Rollins returns with a terrifying story of an ancient menace reborn to plague the modern world . . . and of an impossible hope that lies hidden in the most shocking place imaginable: within the language of angels. ju·das strain, n. A scientific term for an organism that drives an entire species to extinction.From the depths of the Indian Ocean, a horrific plague has arisen to devastate humankind--a disease that's unknown, unstoppable . . . and deadly. But it is merely a harbinger of the doom that is to follow. Aboard a cruise liner transformed into a makeshift hospital, Dr. Lisa Cummings and Monk Kokkalis--operatives of SIGMA Force--search for answers to the bizarre affliction. But there are others with far less altruistic intentions. In a savage and sudden coup, terrorists hijack the vessel, turning a mercy ship into a floating bio-weapons lab.A world away, SIGMA's Commander Gray Pierce thwarts the murderous schemes of a beautiful would-be killer who holds the first clue to the discovery of a possible cure. Pierce joins forces with the woman who wanted him dead, and together they embark upon an astonishing quest following the trail of the most fabled explorer in history: Marco Polo. But time is an enemy as a worldwide pandemic grows rapidly out of control. As a relentless madman dogs their every step, Gray and his unlikely ally are being pulled into an astonishing mystery buried deep in antiquity and in humanity's genetic code. And as the seconds tick closer to doomsday, Gray Pierce will realize he can truly trust no one, for any one of them could be . . . a Judas. NOTE FROM THE HISTORICAL RECORD Herein lies a mystery. In the year 1271, a young seventeen-year-old Venetian named Marco Polo left with his father and uncle on a voyage to the palaces of Kublai Khan in China. It was a journey that would last twenty-four years and bring forth stories of the exotic lands that lay to the east of the known world: wondrous tales of endless deserts and jade-rich rivers, of teeming cities and vast sailing fleets, of black stones that burned and money made of paper, of impossible beasts and bizarre plants, of cannibals and mystic shamans. After serving seventeen years in the courts of Kublai Khan, Marco returned to Venice in 1295, where his story was recorded by a French romanticist named Rustichello, in a book titled in Old French, Le Divisament dou Monde (or The Description of the World). The text swept Europe. Even Christopher Columbus carried a copy of Marco's book on his journey to the New World. But there is one story of this journey that Marco refused to ever tell, referring only obliquely to it in his text. When Marco Polo had left China, Kublai Khan had granted the Venetian fourteen immense ships and six hundred men. But when Marco finally reached port after two years at sea, there remained but two ships and only eighteen men. The fate of the other ships and men remain a mystery to this day. Was it shipwreck,

Reckless (Benson Security 1) Read Free *************** Prologue—two weeks earlier The Highlands, Scotland Dimitri held his gun tightly at his side as he trudged through the snow behind the psychopath who’d hired him. The sound of gunfire rent the night as the residents of the castle fought back. Reynard Durand, his boss on this job, was an idiot. But a dangerous idiot, the kind who was fluent in violence and lacking in empathy. Durand’s plan had been simple: go to Scotland, kidnap Claire Donaldson, hand her over to his boss and climb further up the ladder of Abramovich’s skin trade business. To achieve this aim, Durand attacked a bachelorette party. He thought he would waltz in, intimidate the women and waltz out again with Claire under his arm. Idiot. If he’d been watching them for the past week, as Dimitri had been, he would have known that nothing was simple when it came to the women of Invertary. He might also have known that Claire had an identical twin. Yeah, Durand was that dumb. He’d managed to nab the wrong woman and Dimitri was scrambling for a plan to get her out of this mess. A plan that didn’t involve blowing his cover. It was the soap opera finale of fuck ups. To prove his point, Megan Donaldson chose that moment to trip and head-butt Durand in his back. Dimitri grabbed her arm and yanked her upright before Durand could lash out. His body tensed, ready to strike if the idiot laid a hand on the woman. “Watch it,” Durand snapped. “Keep hold of her. We need to speed up. I have a couple of snowmobiles stashed at the west exit.” “What about the others?” Dimitri’s left hand wrapped around Megan’s upper arm. Her silver sweater was way too thin for the icy conditions, but he knew if he shrugged off his jacket and gave it to her, it would set off alarm bells for Durand. Instead he pulled her closer to his body and hoped she took some of his heat. “They’re on their own,” Durand snapped. “I don’t get paid enough to save their asses.” Dipshit. You never left a man behind. It was a fundamental code of the armed forces. But then Durand had never been in the military. Another strike against the man. Dimitri made a show of motioning Megan to move forward and telling her to hurry. It earned him a glare, which even in the middle of this fucked up operation, made him want to grin. He held her tight to keep her upright. Far too aware of her gentle curves. The ones he’d been drooling over since he’d first set eyes on her. He needed to come up with a way to get her out of this situation, before it became a whole lot worse. A way that didn’t make Durand suspicious of Dimitri’s allegiance. His mind frantically searched for options. And then it hit him. What if he didn’t get her out of this mess quite yet? What if he let Durand take them straight to his boss? It would be the fastest way for Dimitri to get access to the information he’d gone undercover to get. He glanced at Megan. Would she help him? Would she be willing to play hostage until he had what he

Cold as Ice (Ice 2) Read Free *************** 1 Genevieve Spenser adjusted her four-hundred-dollar sunglasses, smoothed her sleek, perfect chignon and stepped aboard the powerboat beneath the bright Caribbean sun. It was early April, and after a long, cold, wet winter in New York City she should have been ready for the brilliant sunshine dancing off the greeny blue waters. Unfortunately she wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it. For one thing, she didn’t want to be there. She had a six-week sabbatical from her job as junior partner in the law firm of Roper, Hyde, Camui and Fredericks, and she’d been looking forward to something a great deal different. In two days’ time she’d be in the rain forests of Costa Rica with no makeup, no contact lenses, no high heels and no expectations to live up to. She’d been so ready to shed her protective skin that this final task seemed like an enormous burden instead of the simple thing it was. The Grand Cayman Islands were on her way to Central America. Sort of. And one extra day wouldn’t make any difference, Walter Fredericks had told her. Besides, what red-blooded, single, thirty-year-old female would object to spending even a short amount of time with People magazine’s Sexiest Man of the Year, billionaire division? Harry Van Dorn was gorgeous, charming and currently between wives, and the law firm that represented the Van Dorn Foundation needed some papers signed. This was perfect for everyone. Serendipity. Genevieve didn’t exactly think so, but she kept her mouth shut. She’d learned diplomacy and tact in the last few years since Walt Fredericks had taken her under his wing. She pulled out her pale gray Armani suit, put on the seven-hundred-dollar Manolo Blahnik shoes she hadn’t even blinked at buying—the shoes that hurt her feet, made her tower over most men and matched the Armani and nothing else. When she first brought them home she’d emerged from her corporate daze long enough to look at the price tag and burst into tears. What had happened to the idealistic young woman who was determined to spend her life helping people? The rescuer, who spent her money on the oppressed, not on designer clothing? Unfortunately she knew the answer, and she didn’t want to dwell on it. In her tightly controlled life she’d learned to look forward rather than back. The shoes were beautiful and she told herself she deserved them. And she’d brought them to see Harry Van Dorn, as part of her protective armor. They didn’t make climbing down into the launch any easier, but she managed with a modicum of grace. Genevieve hated boats. She rarely got seasick, but she always felt vaguely trapped. She could see the massive white shape of the Van Dorn yacht against the brilliant horizon; it looked more like a mansion than a boat, and maybe she could simply ignore the sea surrounding them and pretend they were in a fancy restaurant. She was good at ignoring unpleasant facts—she’d learned the hard way that that was what you had to do to surv

Hidden Away (KGI 3) Read Free A man who shoots first and asks questions later…Most people would take an all-expenses-paid trip to the beach in a heartbeat. Garrett Kelly only accepts to keep tabs on Sarah Daniels, who’s in hiding after witnessing a murder by Marcus Lattimer, her half-brother—and a personal enemy of KGI. This gig may be beneath a disciplined soldier like Garrett, but if he gets a shot at Lattimer, it will all be worth it……and the ultimate moving target.But Garrett hadn’t counted on falling for Sarah. He’d considered seduction as a tactical maneuver, but when he glimpses Sarah’s dark past, he feels an urgent desire to keep her safe—even after she disappears on him. Garrett doesn’t know exactly who, or what, Sarah’s running from, but whatever it is, she’s running for her life… *************** CHAPTER 1 THERE were any number of men who would do any job Marcus Lattimer wanted done. He’d amassed a fortune and countless connections during his lifetime, most of which were steeped in murky shades of gray. The men directly employed by Lattimer were absolute in their loyalty—he would tolerate no less—but he never allowed himself to fully trust anyone. Some jobs ... Some jobs demanded personal satisfaction. This one was a matter of honor. Others might argue that Marcus had none. By their definition, they’d be right. But he was bound by a fierce loyal code. His honor was what mattered. Allen Cross was an arrogant, coattail-riding asshole. The world would be a better place without his kind of filth, and Marcus was determined that the task would be completed this day. Marcus attached the silencer and tucked the gun into the waist of his slacks. Drawing the Armani suit coat closed, he left the confines of his car and instructed his driver to wait. He walked at an unhurried pace toward the entrance of the high-rise that housed Cross Enterprises. Around him the city lights twinkled in the darkening of dusk, and headlights from passing cars bounced along the alleyways. The streets were mostly empty and the building barren of the weekday horde of employees who scurried in and out with regularity. He paused a short distance from the entrance and checked his watch. The security guard that manned the front entrance on the weekends was a family guy and, like most family guys, had a moderate amount of debt and stretched his budget from payday to payday. After tonight, the guard wouldn’t have the financial worries of others in his class. Marcus had seen to that. Right now, the guard would take a strategic break from his post, and at the same moment, the surveillance cameras would go down. Money bought many things. Loyalty. Disloyalty. A blind eye. A moment’s distraction. Fifteen minutes was all Marcus needed to rid the world of Allen Cross. Cross was a creature of habit. He came into his offices every Saturday after seven and remained until nine P.M., when his car service collected him and drove him to the same restaurant ten blocks away. He liked the few

Killjoy (Buchanan-Renard 3) Read Free Avery Delaney has always tried to put the past far behind her. Abandoned by her rapacious, conniving mother when she was only three days old, Avery was raised by her grandmother and beloved aunt Carolyn. Then, when she was eleven, she witnessed her grandmother's violent death, before Avery herself was shot and left for dead. Miraculously she survived. The man responsible is serving time in a Florida prison. This traumatic experience propels Avery into a life of law and order.Her razor-sharp mind and ability to gather data and decipher evidence has made Avery an expert crime analyst for the FBI. But soon she will have to use every one of her adroit skills on a case that hits painfully close to home.Avery's workaholic aunt, Carolyn Salvetti, is certain her (hopefully soon-to-be ex) husband sent her the gold embossed reservation to the posh Utopia Spa in the mountains of Colorado. At first she is resistant, but then figures it will be a welcome respite from the cutthroat advertising business, not to mention a networking extravaganza. Plus she persuades her niece to join her for the two weeks of luxury and decadence.But Carolyn never makes it to Utopia. Under false pretenses, she is taken to an isolated retreat by a handsome stranger with a dazzling smile, suave demeanor, and the darkest of motives. His name is Monk, a hired assassin. Now, with scant clues and fewer resources, Avery must track down and save Carolyn--and outmaneuver a brilliant killer who is part of an elaborate plot of madness and lethal vengeance. *************** Prologue AVERY ELIZABETH DELANEY’S MOTHER WAS A FRICKIN’ maniac. Fortunately her mother, Jilly, left for parts unknown just three days after Avery was born. Avery was raised by her grandmother Lola and her aunt Carrie. The three generations of females lived quietly and modestly in a two-story frame house on Barnett Street just two blocks from the city square in Sheldon Beach, Florida. The atmosphere on Barnett Street was vastly different after Jilly left home. The household, which had once been in a constant uproar, was now peaceful. Carrie even learned to laugh again, and for five wonderful years, life was very nearly idyllic. The previous years with Jilly had taken their toll on Grandma Lola, however. She hadn’t become a mother until she was almost old enough to begin the change of life, and she was an old, tired woman now. The day Avery turned five, Lola began having chest pains. She could barely get the icing on the child’s birthday cake without having to sit down and rest a spell. Lola didn’t tell anyone about her problem, and she didn’t see her regular doctor in Sheldon Beach because she didn’t trust him to keep quiet about his findings. He might just take it upon himself to tell Carrie about her illness. She made an appointment with a cardiologist in Savannah and drove all the way there to see him. After giving her a complete physical, his diagnosis was grim. He prescribed medica

Forged in Steele (KGI 7) Read Free The Kelly Group International (KGI): A super-elite, top secret, family-run business.Qualifications: High intelligence, rock-hard body, military background.Mission: Hostage/kidnap victim recovery. Intelligence gathering. Handling jobs the U.S. government can’t…Steele, a KGI team leader, is an enigma not even his team mates understand. His emotions are tightly locked down and nothing can break that icy exterior. Nothing except Maren Scofield, a doctor on a mission, a woman who has gotten under Steele’s skin and threatens to crack that unflappable cool he’s legendary for.Steele is determined not to allow Maren past his carefully guarded defenses, but when she’s in danger, there’s no way he’ll allow anyone else to protect her. She’s hiding something. He’s sure of it. But he isn’t prepared for the shocking discovery her secrets reveal. Or how they will forever alter the course of his destiny. He has a decision to make. Hold tight and shut her out. Or take a chance on something more powerful than he’s ever faced. Love. *************** CHAPTER 1 “STATUS,” Steele said in low tones. His receiver crackled in his ear and P.J. Rutherford’s response was immediate. “No shot yet. Repeat, no clear shot. Give me two minutes to reposition. I’ll get him.” Steele’s gaze swept the guard towers and simmered with impatience. They were fifteen minutes past go time and the extrication chopper would land in forty-five. Which gave them almost no time to get in, grab the girl and get out. He wasn’t entirely certain this chick wanted out, but her parents were paying KGI a mint to go in and wrest her from the grasp of Matteo Garza. During three days of round-the-clock surveillance, it had not appeared to Steele that Christina Westlake was in any sort of distress. She’d pranced around in a thong and bikini top and five-inch heels, laughing and smiling and looking smugly content. He just hoped to hell she was wearing sensible shoes today because running would be a bitch in the stilettos and he needed her steady on her feet. “Make it fast, P.J.,” Steele growled. “We’re on a timetable here.” “Cool your jets, boss man,” Cole drawled. “My girl will get the job done.” Steele rolled his eyes, and he knew damn well P.J. was doing the same. He’d suffer more bickering from the two newlyweds as soon as the mission was completed. P.J. would remove Cole’s balls for that remark. “Any sign of our target?” Dolphin broke in. “I haven’t seen her in half an hour. Thought she was supposed to be sunbathing at this time?” Miss Westlake had a routine. It was one thing Steele could say for her. Dolphin, Baker and Renshaw had eagerly volunteered for the afternoon surveillance shift so they could see the leggy blonde in her thong. Not to mention she always took her top off when she sunbathed. She was a looker, no doubt, but she didn’t do a damn thing for Steele. “She’s late,” Baker muttered. “Which means we’ll have to find her ass when we go in.” “I’ll go get her,” Re

Fire and Ice (Ice 5) Read Free *************** 1 Reno bounded up the stairs, two at a time, and pushed open the door to the deserted apartment, only to stare directly into the barrel of a Glock. Peter Madsen slowly put his gun away. “What the hell are you doing here? I could have shot you.” Reno grinned. He knew Peter thought he was the most annoying, most flamboyant operative ever to work for the Committee, that covert organization of ruthless do-gooders, and he did his best to live up to that image. He brushed an invisible speck of lint off his leather jacket and kept his sunglasses firmly in place in the darkened room. “I trust your instincts,” he said, closing the door behind him and strolling into the apartment. His pointy-toed leather cowboy boots echoed on the parquet flooring. “How do you ever sneak up on anyone when you’re so damned noisy?” Peter said. Reno gave him his most annoying smile. There was nothing he liked better than to irritate the Ice Man. “I manage,” he said. “I thought you might need a little help.” “When I need help, I’ll ask for it.” Reno shrugged. “Just trying to do my duty, boss. Isobel’s really gone, hasn’t she? Our fearless leader has disappeared, leaving you in charge.” “Yes.” Peter glowered at him. “And don’t call me boss. It’s not my idea you’re here.” “Not mine, either. You think she went with Killian?” “I expect so.” “Aah, true love,” Reno said. “For good?” “I hope so,” Peter said. “Why? So you can take over running the Committee?” Reno wandered over to the window to look out into the wet winter afternoon. “Hardly. I’m passing this off to the first person qualified.” “Then why?” Peter shrugged. “Because this kind of life demands too high a price. Isobel and Killian stayed too long—they earned the right to get out of it.” Reno snorted. “You don’t seem the sentimental kind to me.” “And you’re such a great judge of character?” Reno merely smiled his catlike smile. “So explain this to me,” he said in his deliberate English. “Why are we still in hiding? Why have my cousin and his wife disappeared somewhere in Japan? Thomason is dead—any contracts he put out should be canceled, and the Russian mercenaries should have lost interest. Mercenaries don’t work without money, and their source of income has dried up. We should be ready to move on to new things, not wasting time cleaning up old messes.” “Maybe the Russians haven’t heard. Maybe they’ve moved on to other things, but our intel is spotty. Either way, I’m not about to take a chance. We’ve lost too many operatives to risk it. Besides, I’m rather fond of your cousin.” “So am I. I also think he could hold his own against half-a-dozen retired Russian operatives,” Reno said. “Probably. But we’re not going to find out. They stay hidden until we know it’s safe. You got that?” Reno didn’t respond, changing the subject instead. “How is Mahmoud doing?” “Fine,” Peter said gloomily. “I’m supposed to bring home a Play Station Three. The kid’s a ruthless, soulless assassin, so

Disillusioned (Swept Away 2) Read Free Following on the heels of Illusion, indie sensation and New York Times bestselling author J.S. Cooper brings us the second novel in the Swept Away series, a trilogy of dark and sexy romances about a woman marooned on a desert island with a sexy stranger—but is he friend or foe?When Bianca and Jakob awake on a sandy shore in the middle of nowhere, their first thoughts are of survival. But as they explore their surroundings and try to discover who stranded them on the island, they can’t deny the electricity surging between them. Soon it’s more than just a campfire keeping them warm…But just as Bianca is starting to trust Jakob, she uncovers a clue to their abduction—and he may know more than he’s letting on. Was Jakob just as surprised as she to find himself alone with her…or could the man she’s fallen for be her captor? *************** Prologue The moment the world changed colors all seems like a dream now. I always think back to that moment and it always plays back slightly differently in my head. You’d think I’d have remembered every single word and action from that day, but I don’t. Each kiss and each sentence is muddled in my mind and the replay is always unique, however, I will never forget the way that I felt. “Did you really think I’d let you go, Bianca?” His voice sounded muffled as he whispered in my ear softly through the material that was tied around my eyes and across my ears. “Did you think I’d just give up?” The tip of his tongue trailed from the inside of my ear and down the side of my neck. I shivered in the cool room as I strained to move my hands. The rope was tight around my wrists and I struggled in the bed. “Why are you doing this, Mattias?” I said as his lips pressed against mine roughly. “Because you want me to.” He bit down on my lower lip and tugged gently. “And because I want to.” He leaned down closer to me and I breathed in his scent, wallowing in the smell of his cologne. The first time I’d smelled him I’d instinctively been attracted to him. I could still remember being in the back of the dark car with him the night I’d been kidnapped. My eyes felt heavy as I thought about his betrayal. How could Jakob have done this to me? How could I have not known he was Mattias? “You need to trust me, Bianca.” His voice was monotone as he kissed me again, and I tried to avoid breathing in his smell. “You said that last time,” I whispered, and my body froze as I smelled him again. This time every nerve in my body tingled with shock as the bold musk of the familiar cologne hit me, sending shock waves through my body. His kiss was searching and demanding; wanting something that had been forbidden to him. I lay there, unmoving, trying not to betray my fear. “I want to make you mine, Bianca. We can make this work.” His voice deepened and I tried not to cringe as I felt his fingers in my hair. I remained tight-lipped, scared that my voice would give something away. “No,” I said softly, and he froze

Ice Storm (Ice 4) Read Free *************** Prologue Then Mary Isobel Curwen had never shot a man before. She stood there, numb, unmoving. She’d never fired a gun before, and the feel of it in her grasp was disturbing. Her hand and arm tingled with the recoil, and she could smell the cordite, the blood. She wouldn’t look at him—he was down, unmoving, and there was nothing on this earth that would make her walk over to him and see what she’d done. Had she blown a hole through his head? His chest? Was he dead or just wounded? She knew she ought to check…. She’d had every reason to shoot him, but you couldn’t very well let a man bleed to death, could you? she thought dazedly. Even if he’d been trying to kill you? Or maybe you could. Maybe you could drop the gun, turn and run, as fast as possible, before he suddenly stood up and came after you, before one of his buddies came running to see where the noise had come from. Maybe you could take the gun with you, just in case. She still had her backpack over her shoulder, which struck her as slightly crazy. She put the heavy handgun into it, noticing that her hands were shaking. Of course they were. She’d just killed a man. He still wasn’t moving, and she could see a pool of blood gathering beneath him. He was definitely dead. How was she going to live without him? It had begun to rain sometime during the last few hours. The streets were soaked, the lights glinting off the wet pavement as she ran out into the night, closing the heavy door of the abandoned building behind her without a sound. She was wearing loose sandals and wanted to kick them off, but you couldn’t run barefoot when you were in the middle of a city. Even with a gun in your backpack and the man you loved lying dead in the dirt. Running would attract too much attention. She shoved back her wild hair, trying to stuff the thick tangle into a knot. She straightened her shoulders and walked on in the rainy night, calm, composed, the scream buried so deep in her heart that it would never escape. By the time they found his body she’d be long gone, and there’d be nothing to connect Mary Isobel Curwen with a dead terrorist in a run-down part of Marseille. No one would ever know. Except she would. And she’d live with it, as she’d learned to live with everything else life had handed her. Killian was dead. Long live Mary Isobel Curwen. Without him. 1 Now Madame Isobel Lambert was exhausted. It had been a draining weekend in the Lake District—she’d played with her hosts’ obstreperous children, gone on long hikes, eaten too much rich food, drank too much red wine, wrestled with her conscience and killed two men. All that without a cigarette. She was not in a good mood. There was no question that the men had deserved to die. Manuel Kupersmith and Jorge Sullivan were the lowest of the low, and beyond the reach of traditional justice. Drug dealers with a taste for torture and a well-financed sympathy for terrorists, they’d covered their tracks too well.

The Maze (FBI Thriller 2) Read Free *************** 1 San Francisco, California May 15 IT WOULDN'T STOP, EVER. She couldn't breathe. She was dying. She sat upright in her bed wheezing, trying to control the terror. She turned on the lamp beside her bed. There was nothing there. No, just shadows that kept the corners dark and frightening. But the door was closed. She always closed her bedroom door at night and locked it, then tilted a chair against it so that its back was snug against the doorknob. Just for good measure. She stared at that door. It didn't move. It didn't so much as rattle in its frame. The knob did not turn. No one was on the other side trying to get in. No one this time. She made herself look over toward the window. She'd wanted to put bars on all the windows when she moved in seven months before, but at the last minute she decided that if she did she would have made herself a prisoner forever. Instead she'd switched to the fourth-floor apartment. There were two floors above her and no balconies. No one could come in through the window. And no one would think she was crazy because she lived on the fourth floor. It was a good move. There was no way she could continue living at home, where Belinda had lived. Where Douglas had lived. The images were in her mind, always faded, always blurred, but still there and still menacing: bloody, but just beyond her ability to put them in focus. She was in a large dark space, huge, she couldn't see the beginning or the end of it. But there was a light, a narrow focused light, and she heard screams. And the screams. Loud, right there on her. And there was Belinda, always Belinda. She was still choking on the fear. She didn't want to get up, but she made herself. She had to go to the bathroom. Thank God the bathroom was off the bedroom. Thank God she didn't have to unlock the bedroom door, pull the chair back from beneath the knob, and open it onto the dark hallway. She flipped the bathroom light on before she went into the room, then blinked rapidly at the harsh light. She saw movement from the corner of her eye. Her throat clogged with terror. She whirled around: It was only herself in the mirror. She stared at her reflection. She didn't recognize the wild woman before her. All she saw was fear: the twitching eyes, the sheen of sweat on her forehead, her hair ratty, her sleep shirt damp with perspiration. She leaned close to the mirror. She stared at the pathetic woman whose face was still tense with fear. She realized in that moment that if she didn't make some serious changes the woman in the mirror would die. To the woman staring back at her, she said, "Seven months ago I was supposed to go study music at Berkeley. I was the best. I loved making music, all the way from Mozart to John Lennon. I wanted to win the Fletcher competition and go to Julliard. But I didn't. Now I'm afraid of everything, including the dark." She turned slowly away from the mirror and walked back into her bedroom. She

James Rollins takes you to the edge of modern medicine, genetics, and technology, revealing the next evolutionary leap forward: Immortality — a future conceived through the monstrous ingenuity of man...Galilee, 1025. A cunning Templar knight uncovers a holy treasure: the Bachal Isu — the staff of Jesus Christ — a priceless icon that holds a mysterious and terrifying power that will forever change humanity if unleashed.A millennium later, Somali pirates hijack a yacht off the coast off the Horn of Africa, kidnapping a young pregnant American woman and brutally killing her husband. Painter Crowe and his SIGMA team are enlisted for the top secret rescue mission. The kidnapped woman is Amanda Gant-Bennett, the daughter of U.S. president James Gant. Crowe is more than a little suspicious that the kidnapping masks a far more nefarious plot.In the field, Commander Gray Pierce leads his small team of operatives into the treacherous African jungle to find the missing woman. But what should be a straightforward rescue turns into a fiery ambush and a deadly act of betrayal. As Commander Pierce and his team discover, the hostage is a pawn in a shattering act of terrorism with dark and shocking repercussions. And the danger is only beginning... WORDS FROM ASSASSINATED PRESIDENTS On the existence and threat of modern-day secret societies: We are opposed around the world by a monolithic and ruthless conspiracy that relies primarily on covert means for expanding its sphere of influencebuilding a tightly knit, highly efficient machine that combines military, diplomatic, intelligence, economic, scientific and political operations. - JOHN F. KENNEDY, FROM A SPEECH GIVEN AT THE WALDORF-ASTORIA HOTEL ON APRIL 27, 1961 On life and death: Surely God would not have created such a being as man, with an ability to grasp the infinite, to exist only for a day! No, no, man was made for immortality. - ABRAHAM LINCOLN NOTES FROM THE HISTORICAL RECORD Throughout history, conspiracy theories abound. It is only human nature. We are forever looking for patterns amid chaos, for signs of the invisible puppeteer manipulating the grand scheme of lives, governments, and the path of mankind. Some of these shadowy plotters are cast as villains; others as great benefactors. Some of these secret cabals are based on historical facts; others are mere fanciful fictions; and yet even more are a Gordian knot of the two, woven so inexplicably together that the line between fact and fiction becomes a tangled tapestry of false history. And for no other organization in history has this stood truer than the infamous Knights Templar. In the early twelfth century, the order began as a group of nine knights, who swore to protect pilgrims on their way to and from the Holy Lands. From those humble beginnings, a great order would eventually grow in both wealth and power and spread across Europe until even popes and kings feared them. Then, on October 13, 1307, the king of France and the current pope co

Born, Madly (Darkly, Madly 2) Read Free *************** Prologue I, Monster Grayson Perfection. The ultimate assumption that it can be attained if one works hard enough, sacrifices enough, is determined enough to prevail…is the very definition of insanity. But what is this maddening thing we call perfection? It’s different for everyone. That one, blissfully high moment of utter and complete satisfaction, of achievement. It’s a sweet glimpse of heaven. A split-second where demons depart and the gates inch open, granting us a limited view of something holy. We have reached the top of the mountain. We have conquered. We reap our reward. Ah, that reward doesn’t come freely. There’s a price. Fear. Let me rip the Band-Aid off. Fear governs our life—that soul-sickening dread of loss. Once we’ve obtained our perfection, anxiety creeps in like the demonic force it is to steal our light. The truth is a nice dash of salt in a fresh, cavernous wound. Once we’ve tasted the sweetest perfection, savoring it on our tongue, everything that follows can only be bland by comparison. Or worse; a sickly sour. Quickly becoming a rotten bitterness that roils our stomach. The higher we reach, the further we descend immediately afterward. A crushing low. A torrid pit of hell awaits us at the bottom. Maybe that’s where London and I made our first mistake. Believing we could bottle our perfect piece of heaven. Immortalize it. Exist only for each other. Maybe we still can. But the higher we climbed, drugged on each other, ruling over a damned world that bowed and trembled before the god-like monsters we’d become, the harder our fall. We are perfection. And we are the fear that lurks beneath it. We feast on each other and exist only for the highs…and even now as I kneel before my dark goddess and pray for her mercy, I regret nothing. We truly were happy. Maybe we still can be. Locks and keys—the symphony of my life. A masterpiece, my design. My fear brought us to this moment. The razor-sharp edge of the knife presses into my neck and splits my skin, and I release a hiss. I search her gold-flecked eyes for the spark that tells me she’s ready. Her eyes are wild, filled with loathing contempt, her chest heaving as glistening beads of sweat dot her smooth brow. My beautiful angel of mercy, now my vengeful angel of death. “Do it,” I command. Her hand steadies. The cold steel a tantalizing tease to my heated flesh.

When Day Breaks (KGI 9) Read Free THE ALL-NEW KGI NOVEL BY NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELING AUTHOR AUTHOR MAYA BANKSThe Kelly Group International (KGI): A super-elite, top secret, family-run business. Qualifications: High intelligence, rock-hard body, military background. Mission: Hostage/kidnap victim recovery. Intelligence gathering. Handling jobs the U.S. government can’t… Eden is said to be one of the most beautiful women in the world. Her face has graced countless magazines and her body has sold millions of dollars of clothing. But her fame and beauty has earned her more than she ever imagined. Evil is stalking her, determined to extinguish the ethereal beauty forever. Swanson or “Swanny” as his teammates call him is always up for the next mission. He came back from Afghanistan wounded and scarred. Hardly the kind of man who even belongs in the same room with Eden. And yet there’s something about the quiet beauty that stirs his blood and makes him dream of the impossible. Because Beauty loving the Beast only happens in fairy tales and KGI doesn’t deal in fairy tales. Ever. *************** CHAPTER 1 BIG Eddie Sinclair sat behind his aged wooden desk in his big empty house—a house that had once been filled with love and laughter—his gnarled, callused hands shaking. Sweat beaded his forehead and ran in thin rivulets down his temples, tracing a line over grooved, aged, weather-beaten skin. His hands shook so badly that the papers he’d been holding fell, scattering on the desk, some sliding onto the floor. He stared up, his gaze unconsciously seeking out the mantel over the fireplace his wife had insisted on having installed in his working space. She hadn’t wanted him to ever get cold. The idea that Big Eddie Sinclair’s gentle wife had been concerned that he’d get cold would have gotten him laughed out of the barracks. His badass buddies would never let him hear the end of it. Eddie was a big man. A killer. Trained by the best. And in turn he had trained the best. But right now he felt as helpless as a newborn babe. Fear, an emotion that until the day his first child was born had been completely alien to him, gripped him by the balls, freezing his insides. He rubbed at his chest in an effort to alleviate the discomfort and closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the images the threat had invoked. He’d lived his life knowing that he was invincible. He wasn’t egotistical. Men who served with the men he served with didn’t think they were good. They knew they were good. And none of that ability had been able to save his precious wife. He closed his eyes more tightly against the betraying sting of tears. Even years later, thinking of the love of his life had the power to bring him to his knees. A lifetime of regret stored in the years since she’d died, leaving him with three young children to love, protect and raise on his own. And by God, he’d done just that. He’d made certain they were protected above all else. And now his precious Eden, his only daught

Taking the Thief Read Free Natasha wasn’t in the mood for this. With a migraine dancing in her eyes, she just wanted to rest on the plane. After her cousin dropped her and her bestie off on the tarmac, Natasha took her meds and passed out while they flew to her brother’s island resort…or so she thought. Getting off the plane and into the waiting vehicle. When they pulled up to the hotel, she knows something wasn’t right. They weren’t on Ostrov; this was all she needed. Before she realizes it, she’s being questioned by some mean-looking guys. They want to know where the girl is that she stole the identity from. She has no clue who the woman is, but one thing’s for certain…she’s on the wrong island. Julian Navarro has been working himself to the bone in order to give his sister the good life. The death of his parents left him cold and hardened his heart and determination. Realizing that he’s been neglecting her for a long time for work, he decides to spoil her with an overly lavish trip to the island. There’s just one little hiccup in the process. She hasn’t arrived, and there’s another woman pretending to be her. The little identity thief is trapped in a room giving his police shit, but Julian wants answers, and he wants them now. Sending them on their way, he takes over the interrogation. It was a huge miscalculation. The woman in question is his latest competitor’s sister, and she’s stolen more than Marisol’s identity, she’s stolen Julian’s heart. This is the third book in The Caribbean Rivalry Series *************** Chapter 1 Natasha This day is turning out to be really shitty. I woke up with a headache that’s growing by the minute. The thumping in my skull is driving me insane. It’s only going to get worse as the day goes on. Maybe it’ll pass if I caught it early enough. I’ve already popped in two Excedrin Migraine, but I know silence and my eyes closed are the only things that ease the pain. Zoey, my best friend, is doing her best to handle all of the packing for me. She knows that once I get one, I’m done. I’m starting to believe there’s a correlation between my headaches and what I eat. I put on my sunglasses and chill before we make our way out to the SUV. Viktor gives me a smile, but I don’t feel like being nice to anyone right now. We arrive at the airport on the tarmac. I tip my head to the side, examining the plane’s exterior. This isn’t my brother’s plane unless he managed to acquire a new one which I doubt. “Why does his plane look different?” “His is being serviced. He borrowed this one,” Viktor answers before walking up to the stewardess. He was only supposed to drop us off, but he wanted to make sure we were set. I nod, then drop down on the bed-like seats. They are so comfortable and just what I need. I lay my head back and plug in my earbuds to drown out the sound and pass out. Zoey doesn’t mind because she’s happy to be going while she has some time off from her cleaning gig. The next thing I know Zoey’s waking me up. “Hey,

Knock Out (FBI Thriller 13) Read Free *************** 1 “EVERYONE, SHUT UP! All of you—get down and put your faces on the floor!” The man punctuated his order with a half-dozen shots fired into the air from a submachine gun. Chunks of ceiling plaster fell onto the marble floor. In a few seconds, everyone lay flat, no one moving a muscle, the echoes of their shocked screams thick in the air. Savich’s first thought was Thank God, Sean’s not here with me. He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, pressed two keys on his cell phone, and remained as still as the twenty other people in the First Union Bank of Washington, D.C. He heard some sobs, but for the most part everyone lay on their stomachs in heart-racing, petrified silence, noses against the marble floor. He heard Sherlock’s voice. “Hello? Hello?” The man screamed, “You worker bees behind the counter, don’t even think of pressing the alarm! You—yes, you, Mr. Loan Officer—get me the bank manager, now! Now, or this asshole dies!” Savich slowly shifted his head to see Buzz Riley, the security guard, an ex-cop Savich had known for five years, with a snub-nosed .38 barrel stuck in his ear by a man maybe two inches taller than Riley was, with a lanky build and big hands that made the .38 look like a toy. Savich knew who they were, and it wasn’t good. The media had dubbed them the Gang of Four, and they had made a name for themselves as they zigzagged their way across Kentucky and Virginia during the past four weeks, and now they were making their debut bank robbery here in D.C. What was different about this group was that two of the four robbers were women. That, and the fact they were killers. When they burst into a bank, people died. To date, six people had been killed, all four bank security guards and two customers. Riley had to be scared out of his mind. Another robber fired a spurt of bullets into the air that thudded against the high, old-fashioned ceiling, raining down more plaster, digging into the graceful 1930s molding, sending chunks of wood flying down. This time there weren’t any screams, only a couple of sharp, gasping breaths, then silence. No one moved. From the corner of his eye, Savich saw they were using Colt nine-millimeter submachine guns, deadly and fast, thirty-two rounds a clip. Another robber, this one a woman, yelled, “Where is the manager?” Mac Jamison—proud of his thick mustache, too heavy but just about ready to join the gym, he’d told Savich—walked slowly through the doors from the back, his hands clasped behind his head. “I’m Jamison. I’m the manager.” The woman said, “Think of me as your friendly Easter Bunny here to gather up my eggs,” and laughed. Like the other three, she was dressed all in black, a black ski mask covering her head and face. “I know you got your delivery from the Federal Reserve, so don’t give me any butt-stupid crap about not having any money here. Now, you and I are taking a trip to the vault and loading up.” “But—” “Move!” she screamed, and

Bloody Vows (Lilah Love 5) Read Free FBI agent Lilah Love leads a complicated life. She's engaged to Kane Mendez, a man most call dangerous, but hey birds of a feather, do flock together. She's dangerous, too, and in ways only Kane understands. As for their happily ever after, well that might have to wait. Right now, an old enemy who should be dead is still living, Junior, her mystery letter writer, is stirring up trouble, and her family is trying to prove they're crazier than her. On top of that she has a new case: a dead woman in a bloody wedding dress. And since Lilah knows all too well there is no such thing as coincidence, clearly someone is sending her yet another message. *************** INDEX Lilah Love (28)—dark-brown hair, brown eyes, curvy figure. An FBI profiler working in Los Angeles, she grew up in the Hamptons. Her mother was a famous movie star who died tragically in a plane crash, which caused Lilah to leave law school prematurely and eventually pursue a career in law enforcement. Lilah’s father is the mayor in East Hampton; her brother is the Hamptons’ chief of police. She dated Kane Mendez against her father’s wishes. She was brutally attacked one night, and Kane came to her rescue, somewhat, and what unfolded that night created a secret between the two they can never share with anyone else. This eventually caused Lilah to leave and take the job in LA, away from her family, Kane, and that secret. Lilah is back in the Hamptons now, and engaged to Kane Mendez, and working as part of a special FBI task force to take down the Society— an underground organization with deep pockets, and fingers in all the wrong political pots. Kane Mendez (32)—brown hair, dark-brown eyes, leanly muscled body. He’s the CEO of Mendez Enterprises and thought to be the leader of the cartel that his father left behind when he was killed. But Kane’s uncle runs the operations, while he runs the legitimate side of the business. Lilah’s ex from before she left for L.A., and now her fiancé since they’ve reconnected. Director Murphy (50s)—gray hair, perfectly groomed. Former military. Lilah’s boss. The head of the L.A. branch of the FBI. Sent Lilah to the Hamptons to follow the assassin case. Is known to have had strong feelings for Lilah’s mother, and as head of the task force Lilah is on, continues to point her in the direction to take down the Society. Jeff “Tic Tac” Landers—Lilah’s go-to tech guy at the FBI. She’s pulled him onto the task force with her. Grant Love (57)—blue eyes, graying hair. Lilah’s father, the mayor, and retired police chief of East Hampton. A perfect politician. Charming. He’s being groomed by Ted Pocher to run for New York governor. Andrew Love (34)—blond hair, blue eyes. Lilah’s brother and the East Hampton police chief. Andrew is protective and seems to be the perfect brother. The problem is that he’s perfect at everything, including being as macho and as bossy as their father. There’s more to Andrew than meets the eye. Lucas Davenp

No Escape (Texas Rangers 2) Read Free *************** Prologue Central Texas Ten years ago Moonlight dripped on the rusted blue ’79 Chevy Impala angled at the end of a dirt-packed rural road. Yards ahead a footpath twisted, slithered and vanished into scrawny woodlands. A coyote howled. Robbie had never been here before but his father, Harvey Lee Smith, had grown up near this property. He’d often talked about it, swearing he could conjure each rock, bump and tree on the field now awash in springtime bluebonnets. Harvey said the bluebonnets always calmed his racing thoughts and chased away his demons. But imagining the sea of delicate purple flowers did little to ease Robbie’s dread. Setting the brake, Harvey leaned over the steering wheel and stared at the trail that snaked toward the beloved blossoms. “I bet you money that my baby girl would love to see the blossoms. Yes, sir, she would love it.” “She’s not a baby, Harvey,” Robbie said. “She’s twenty-two. A year younger than me.” His smile ebbing, a forlorn shadow darkened the older man’s features. “No, I reckon she’s not a baby, Robbie. She’s graduated. Earned her bachelor’s and going to get her PhD. Smart kid. A chip off the old block.” Jealousy stinging, Robbie regarded Harvey. “You should go see her. Tell her you’re proud.” Harvey shook his head, staring at his smooth hands gripping the steering wheel. “Thought about it. Thought about it a lot. But like I said before, it’s not a good idea.” “She might like to know you’re out there thinking of her.” Robbie understood he was digging into an old hurt his father carried in his heart. But he didn’t care. He was tired of feeling less when compared to the girl Harvey idealized. Scowling, his father jerked the door handle up and pushed his shoulder into it. The door groaned open. “Come on, boy. The night won’t last forever.” Harvey slammed the door hard and moved to the back of the Impala. Robbie smoothed sweaty palms over his jeans and stared into the rearview mirror, watching Harvey insert a key into the trunk lock. Robbie’s stomach somersaulted and again he hoped his fear didn’t upend his stomach. He did not want to be here. Opening his door, he lumbered out of the car and braced against the cool night air. He hovered by the car door. Key still in hand, Harvey glanced up toward the bright moon as if savoring how the stars popped more in the Hill Country away from the bright lights of Austin. He inhaled, appreciating the cool, soft, spring air. “Lord, but I’ve missed coming up this way.” Robbie shoved trembling hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Why don’t you come back here more often?” Shaking his head, Harvey twisted the key and the lock released. “Last time I was here, it didn’t go well, so I stayed away. I can see now that this trip was a mistake.” “Wasn’t this place your family home?” “Naw. Just a place I liked visiting.” The trunk lid rose, cutting off Robbie’s view. “Come on, boy. We got work to do.” Harvey’s voice, darkly polite, had h

Before She Dies (Alexandria Novels 3) Read Free Romantic suspense star Burton infuses every sentence with suspense in "Before She Dies," her chilling new thriller in which a serial killer obsessed with the occult plays judge, jury, and executioner. Original.In death, they are purified. Holding his victims under water, he washes away their sins as they struggle for their last breath. Then he stakes their bodies to the ground, exposing them for what they really are. Witches, sent to tempt and to corrupt. No one knows about defense attorney Charlotte Wellington's murdered sister, or about her childhood spent with the carnival that's just arrived in town. For Charlotte, what's past is past. But others don't agree. And as a madman's body count rises, she and Detective Daniel Rokov are drawn into a mission that's become terrifyingly personal. *************** Prologue Eighteen Years Ago He could pinpoint the day, the hour, even the second when he’d chosen his first kill. In that sacred moment, fear, rules, and consequences ceased to matter and long nurtured fantasies elbowed aside judgment. The switch had been flipped. And a line would be crossed. He raised his gaze to the blindfolded young girl tethered to the wooden chair. She was slumped forward, unconscious from the drugs he’d administered. A curtain of lush dark hair covered her pale oval face, cascaded over tight full breasts, and grazed a full waist and gently rounded hips. Not more than seventeen or eighteen, the girl worked at the carnival. She was the psychic. The seer. The seducer. For the average person she was a delightful diversion or a harmless amusement. But he was a rare breed, empowered with gifts that allowed him to see beyond her youth and beauty to the timeless evil. The decision to kill her had come seven days ago when he’d visited her carnival tent. On that night, he’d patiently waited in the line that trailed outside her tent. He’d been nervous, edgy, and still clueless that his life was about to change. When he’d finally entered her domain, candles flickered in shadowed corners, soft music drained from unseen speakers, and the heavy scent of incense clung to the air. She’d been sitting behind a gilded desk and had worn a bright red flowing gypsy costume. A dark wig framed a lovely face half hidden by a black domino mask. He’d felt the rush of excitement as he’d stared at her and sat across the table from her. “Madame Divine,” he’d said. Nodding, she turned his hand over and exposed his palm. “Yes.” “You look so young.” “Do not be fooled by my youth.” Confidence dripped from each word as she traced his jagged lifeline. He wasn’t deceived. “I saw the line. You are quite popular.” Green eyes bore into him. “What is your question?” Her abruptness stoked his anger but he was careful to keep it checked. “Did she love me?” Nodding, Madame Divine traced another line on his palm. “I can answer that question for twenty dollars.” His skin tingled as he pulled his hand free, dug a rumpled t

An inexplicable explosion rocks the antiquities collection of a London museum, setting off alarms in clandestine organizations around the world. And now the search for answers is leading Lady Kara Kensington; her friend Safia al-Maaz, the gallery's brilliant and beautiful curator; and their guide, the international adventurer Omaha Dunn, into a world they never dreamed existed: a lost city buried beneath the Arabian desert. But others are being drawn there as well, some with dark and sinister purposes. And the many perils of a death-defying trek deep into the savage heart of the Arabian Peninsula pale before the nightmare waiting to be unearthed at journey's end: an ageless and awesome power that could create a utopia... or destroy everything humankind has built over countless millennia. Part One Thunderstorm Sandstorm 1 Fire and Rain Sandstorm NOVEMBER 14, 01:33 A.M. THE BRITISH MUSEUM LONDON, ENGLAND H ARRY MASTERSON would be dead in thirteen minutes. If he had known this, he would've smoked his last cigarette down to the filter. Instead he stamped out the fag after only three drags and waved the cloud from around his face. If he was caught smoking outside the guards' break room, he would be shit-canned by that bastard Fleming, head of museum security. Harry was already on probation for coming in two hours late for his shift last week. Harry swore under his breath and pocketed the stubbed cigarette. He'd finish it at his next breakthat is, if they got a break this night. Thunder echoed through the masonry walls. The winter storm had struck just after midnight, opening with a riotous volley of hail, followed by a deluge that threatened to wash London into the Thames. Lightning danced across the skies in forked displays from one horizon to another. According to the weatherman on the Beeb, it was one of the fiercest electrical storms in over a decade. Half the city had been blacked out, overwhelmed by a spectacular lightning barrage. And as fortune would have it for Harry, it was his half of the city that went dark, including the British Museum on Great Russell Street. Though they had backup generators, the entire security team had been summoned for additional protection of the museum's property. They would be arriving in the next half hour. But Harry, assigned to the night shift, was already on duty when the regular lights went out. And though the video surveillance cameras were still operational on the emergency grid, he and the shift were ordered by Fleming to proceed with an immediate security sweep of the museum's two and a half miles of halls. That meant splitting up. Harry picked up his electric torch and aimed it down the hall. He hated doing rounds at night, when the museum was lost in gloom. The only illumination came from the streetlamps outside the windows. But now, with the blackout, even those lamps had been extinguished. The museum had darkened to macabre shadows broken by pools of crimson from the low-voltage security lamps. Harry

Ignite (Unbreakable Bonds 7) Read Free *************** Chapter One Rowe Ward took a drink of the beer in front of him and cleared his throat for the second time. It still didn’t dislodge the lump that had swelled in his throat. He’d known this was going to be a difficult day. Not like he didn’t have ample warning and time to prepare. But even with time and warning, emotions rose and swirled in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. This should have been easier. Lucas Vallois stood, his muscular frame expertly wrapped in a black tux. He slipped his free hand casually into one pocket, looking for all the world like he was gracing the cover of some men’s magazine. The room went quiet as Lucas stared down at Ian Pierce, now Banner, giving him a genuine smile that held all the warmth of what he felt for the man. Lucas loved him, just as they all did. It was impossible not to love Ian. “When Ian came into my life, everything changed for the better. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about how lucky I am to have met him. He took a ragtag group of friends and turned us into a real family. And when I say real family, I mean the group of people you would do anything for. The group of people you can’t live without. Ian came into our world and rounded us out in ways we didn’t even know we needed. Our lives are blessed with his presence, and I truly enjoy all the time spent with him.” He paused and Ian gave him a radiant smile. “One thing I cherish most is our weekly breakfasts. As some of you know, Ian lived with me in the penthouse for a time. Though, I’m pretty sure Rowe and Snow lived there as well, considering the amount of time they spent there.” “It’s the one place we could always find a free meal,” Snow shouted back at him. A ripple of laughter floated around the room, and Lucas shook his head with a smile. Rowe had to agree, but the four of them knew Lucas’s well-stocked fridge was not the reason for their nearly constant appearances at the penthouse. It was so much about the family Lucas was talking about. When the room was quiet, Lucas continued his story. “Too soon, Ian wanted to move out and get his own place. Now, some people call me a controlling man.” Lucas paused again for the low laughter that filled the reception hall. Controlling was putting it lightly, but Rowe was pleased to see that Lucas’s husband, Andrei, had helped to mellow those instincts a bit. “Controlling or not, I thought it was too soon for Ian to leave. To get me to be more reasonable, he promised to come over twice a week and cook breakfast at the penthouse. He said it was his way to make sure I was eating properly. It was my way of checking up on him. We both knew that no matter how amazing Ian’s cooking was, it was never about the food. It was about touching base with those you love. “Years have passed since we first made that agreement. We both now have new families. He still comes to my place and spoils me as he has from the very beginning. And now he spoils my d

Cover Your Eyes (Morgans of Nashville 1) Read Free Don't LookAt first, they struggle to escape. Then a torrent of blows rains down upon their bodies until their eyes cloud over in final agony. The killer shows no remorse--just a twisted need to witness each victim's last terrified moments.Don't SpeakPublic defender Rachel Wainwright is struggling to reopen a decades-old case, convinced that the wrong man is in prison. Homicide detective Deke Morgan doesn't want to agree. But if Rachel's hunch is correct, whoever fatally bludgeoned young, beautiful Annie Dawson thirty years ago could be the source of a new string of brutal slayings.Just Prepare To DieRachel's investigation is about to reveal answers--but at a price she never thought to pay. Now she's become the target of a rage honed by years of jealousy and madness. And a murderer is ready to show her just how vicious the truth can be. . . *************** Prologue Thursday, October 13, 3 AM Nashville, Tennessee Dixie Simmons’s pink cowboy boots, tipped in silver and embossed with glittering stars, clicked against the rain-soaked pavement. A rainstorm had flashed through Music City hours ago and left the air crisp, colder than normal and heavy with moisture. Burrowing deeper into her fringed leather jacket, she shoved chilled hands into her pockets, fingering the roll of wrinkled one-dollar bills from the night’s tip jar. The brisk air snapped at her bare thighs but didn’t slow her on-top-of-the-world gait or spark a bit of remorse for her choice of attire. The black miniskirt wasn’t warm but it showcased her long legs, always a crowd-pleaser at Rudy’s honky-tonk. Tonight she’d been the last to sing at Rudy’s bar, the centerpiece of Lower Broadway’s four block stretch of honky-tonks and restaurants. The one a.m. time slot was not the best spot on a Thursday but considering Rudy hadn’t been expecting her, she’d appreciated the spot, the chance. Some singers might not give one hundred percent to the late-night crowd, but not Dixie. She’d sung as if her life hung in the balance, or better, that a talent-hungry music producer sat in a darkened corner. She’d been spot-on tonight, quickly forgetting about the gig’s mix-up while singing Patsy Cline’s “Crazy.” When she’d switched to a Taylor Swift song she’d energized the crowd who soon were hooping and hollering. Applause followed her when she’d left the stage, her black mini swishing around her thighs. The rus h of excitement had rivaled great sex. The club’s owner Rudy Creed had watched her from behind the bar, clearly pleased by the way she’d roped the crowd’s attention. He’d stopped her on the way out and had said there’d been folks asking after her. “They think you’re good. Worth following,” he’d said. Worth following. Lordy, but she wanted to be worth following more than the breath she took. She’d been on the music circuit for three years—a long time to be waiting tables, knocking on closed music executive’s doors and sinking every extra dime into

Sins & Secrets (Sins 1) Read Free *************** Prologue This day is turning out to be the strangest day of all days. It all started when I overheard my mother and father fighting, which is nothing new. My father had said something about giving up on my mother, making me worry that they’re going to get a divorce. Then the mafia families showed up, one of which was my dad’s sworn enemy and they locked themselves in my house and Layton and I out. I’m desperate to see what’s going on; desperate to know what on earth they could all be doing together. “What do you think they’re doing in there? Something illegal I bet,” I say to my best friend, Layton Everett, as I try to peer through the window. The wooden box I’m standing on is wobbly and the window is so high up that, even on my tiptoes, I can’t see anything except the tops of people’s heads through the window. Layton shrugs, glancing nervously around the backyard. “I don’t know Lola, and honestly, I don’t really care.” I peek over my shoulder at him. “Your dad and mom are in there, too, you know. You have to be curious what they’re doing. All of them under one roof together. It’s weird” “Not really.” He shakes his head and stuffs his hands into his pockets. Layton is unlike most of the fourteen-year-old guys I know. He acts older, more mature. Even though I won’t admit it to him, it’s one of the things I like about him the most—that he acts more grown up and takes care of me and is always there for me when I get myself into trouble, which I’ll admit, is a lot. The longer I stare at him, the more uneasy he becomes. He constantly has trouble telling me no, especially when I give him “the look.” “Lola, please don’t look at me like that,” he says with a sigh. “I know you want to know what they’re doing in there, but…” He massages the back of his neck tensely. “Didn’t you notice they were all carrying guns?” I shrug as I hop off the box and dust the dirt off my hands. “They’re always carrying guns. That’s what they do.” “Yeah, but…” He seems way too tense, even for him, as he looks around the yard again. There are so many places for someone to hide back here. The yard is over-flourished with trees, shrubbery, a small vineyard, and acres and acres of flowers and grass; so I don’t get what he’s expecting to see. Sighing, he leans in and lowers his voice, his silver-grey eyes filled with worry. “They’re all in there together. My dad and mom, your mom, your dad, Frankie and his guys, even the Defontelles are in there. There has to be something going on—something dangerous. You know they just don’t meet up like that.” He swallows hard. “In fact, the last time they were all in the same building together, people got killed.” “How do you know that?” I wonder. I rarely know anything about my mother and father’s business world, and what I do know is from digging around; drug lords, dealings, bodyguards, guns—they’re always carrying them—stuff that I’m sure is illegal. “My dad tells me stuff.” He looks sad

Shades of Gray (KGI 6) Read Free *************** CHAPTER 1 P.J. Rutherford cocked back her chair and flung her boot on top of the table in front of her. She adjusted her straw cowboy hat so her eyes were barely visible and stared over the smoke-filled room to the band setting up along the far wall. The waitress thumped a bottle of beer on the table next to P.J.’s boot and then sashayed away, her attention reserved for the male customers she flirted with and chatted up. P.J. wasn’t a chatter. She’d never spoken to anyone in all the time she’d been coming here. She couldn’t be called a regular, but yet, in all her irregularity, she was. This was her place to unwind between missions. It wasn’t what most would consider a place of rest and relaxation, but for P.J. it worked to throw back a few beers, inhale some secondhand smoke, go deaf from listening to bad cover songs and watch a few bar fights. She winced when the guitarist riffed a particularly bad chord and then ground her teeth together when the mike squealed. These guys were amateurs. Hell, it was probably their first live gig, which meant she was going home tone-deaf and popping ibuprofen for the headache she’d be sure to have. But it beat spending the evening alone in her apartment with jet lag. Although she wasn’t even sure it could be considered jet lag. She’d been three days without sleep, so truly she could sleep at any time, but she was wired and still buzzed from adrenaline the last mission had wrought. She was wound tighter than a rusted spring and there was no give in her muscles tonight. The big, happy mush fest that had gone on at the Kelly compound, complete with double weddings and enough true love and babies and bullshit to make her green around the gills, hadn’t helped. Not that she was a cynic when it came to romance. She had her romance novels and she was fiercely protective of them and against anyone giving her shit over reading them. But sometimes the Kelly clan was a little overbearing in the sheer sugary sweetness of all that unconditional love and support. Did no one ever get pissed off and start a fight? The truth was, she just felt out of place, which was why she’d rather stick to her own team, let Steele take the orders from Sam or Garrett Kelly and she’d follow her team leader. The day Steele became embroiled in all that happy, bubbly shit was the day she hung up her rifle and called it quits. She liked Steele. She knew where she stood with Steele. Always. He didn’t sugarcoat shit. If you fucked up, he called you on it. If you did your job, you didn’t get any special accolades. Not for doing your fucking job, as he put it. And she liked her team, even if Coletrane was one giant pain in her ass. But he was a cute pain in the ass and he was harmless. Plus he was a perfect target for cutting jokes and egging on. Easy. Too easy. He rose to the bait on too many occasions for her to count. She was the better marksman. She knew that without false modesty. But it didn’t sto

Fast Track (Buchanan-Renard 12) Read Free *************** PROLOGUE Cordelia Kane met her Prince Charming when she was just five years old. Cordelia, called Cordie by her father since she was a baby, hadn’t wanted to go to school when she turned five, but her father wouldn’t let her stay home anymore. He insisted she give school a try. He was positive she would like it. As it turned out, he was right. On her first day in kindergarten at the exclusive Briarwood School she made two new friends, Sophie Rose and Regan Madison. Cordie saw Sophie that first morning crossing the parking lot and was sure the girl had just stepped out of a fairy tale. Her long white-blond hair bounced as she walked, and she had a twinkle in her eyes. Regan arrived shortly after. She was very pretty, too, with thick brown hair and freckles on her nose that Cordie wished she had. It didn’t take long for the girls to form a bond. All it took was one incident on the playground. A second-grade bully tried to take Cordie’s hair barrettes from her, and Regan and Sophie immediately came to her defense. Sophie was outraged on Cordie’s behalf, but it was Regan who proved to be the brave one. She stood up to the bully and wouldn’t back down. From that moment on the girls became inseparable. Where one went the others followed. Cordie’s new friends came from homes that were very different from hers. Regan and Sophie were driven to school by chauffeurs in limos and town cars. Cordie’s father drove her to school in his old, reliable pickup truck. Regan and Sophie had attended prestigious preschools for two years before starting at Briarwood. Cordie hadn’t gone to preschool, yet when she started kindergarten, she already knew how to read. Her father had taught her, sitting down with her every night after dinner and her bath. Reading wasn’t the only thing her father taught her. While other children worked on arts and crafts and played games like hide-and-seek, Cordie spent her days with her father in his automotive shop learning all about cars. He loved working on what he called clunkers, and because she wanted to please him, she paid attention to what he was doing and managed to get grease on her clothes almost daily. Every night before they went home they played a game. He would lift the hood of a car, then pick her up in his arms and point to something in or around the engine. It was her task to tell him what the part was called and what its job was. As she got older, she got better and quicker. Her favorite thing was to ride along with her father in his tow truck and help stranded people. Sometimes it took only a few minutes to get the engine going; other times he had to tow the car back to his shop. The easiest to fix were dead batteries and worn spark plugs. She knew what both of those were because her father had told her. Like other children, she had coloring books and crayons, but she never used them. She preferred following her father around and being his helper. Because she didn

Cruel (A Necrosis of the Mind Duet 1) Read Free *************** Prologue Dark Mind Alex Beauty is deceptive. Like all things in nature, one cannot trust their eyes. The brightest flower, the intricate butterfly wing, all designed to capture attention and warn: Do not touch. The primitive predator heeds this threat. Thousands of years of evolution and the laws of nature remain unchanged. It is a perfect design. But the human male is more complicated, or rather—truthfully—he’s more simple. He takes the warning as a dare, a challenge. His ego demands that he override evolution and conquer that which threatens to make him weak. And what could render a man more helpless than a woman? I tap a large rock against the sediment of the riverbank. Fresh water rushes past boulders, shaving down rough edges as it has done consistently over the years, making the river stones worn, smooth. Welcoming, even. This is the process. Take the hard and jagged thing and apply pressure and consistency until it conforms. Geology. Trial by trial. The scientific method. And if that fails, there is always elimination. Eradicate the deviation. I place the cleaned rocks in a threadbare sack and heave it over my shoulder. I’ve marked this territory, disturbed the natural environment. I’m a part of it now. The waterfall rains down in a sheeting ruffle of blue-green translucence as it crashes into white foam. The sound of the cascade is loud in my ears as it echos through the woods. A perfect auditory conductor to conceal screams. As we are not primitive animals, we all have a psychological weakness. One consuming desire that renders us helpless. She is mine. The brightest flower, the intricate butterfly wing—she was designed for me, to lure me in, to make me weak. Trying to resist her snare was vain, and ineffective. Do not touch. Oh, I touched. I put my hand right into her flame. Then I begged her to burn me again. Obsession is the eighth deadly sin…and she owned me with one kiss. She’s a deviation. A flawed design. Yet so perfectly engineered for her purpose. Eradicate the deviation. The stones knock together against my back as I hike up the hill, the path beat down and familiar now. The wrought iron gate squeaks open, disturbing the tranquility, a noise out of place in this isolated habitat. I drop the sack near my feet and dig out one of the medium-sized stones. I bring out the pewter pocket watch and click it open, lay it on the hard-packed earth. The ticking reverberates against the bark of the thin pines. I watch the second hand jump, jump, jump… I smash the rock against the glass face of the clock. My hand trembles as I stare down at the broken timepiece. I release the rock back into the pile in the sack, flex my fingers. Sweat trickles down my temples. A bird flutters its wings too loudly. The silence is unsettling. I can hear my cells decaying. Membranes dissolving. Molecules splitting and devouring the necrotic matter. The stronger cells leech off the weak as they det

On Thin Ice (Ice 6) Read Free *************** CHAPTER ONE Elizabeth Pennington closed the heavy cypress door behind the last of her young students, shut her eyes and leaned her forehead against the thick wood. She had a miserable headache from the incessant South American heat, the children had been gratifyingly noisy after the first few weeks of polite whispers, and what she needed most was a few quiet moments in her small, darkened room and a cool damp cloth on her forehead. Father Pascal would be in the infirmary, dealing with the host of ailments so prevalent among the people in this small village outside the larger city of Puerto Claro – ear infections, dysentery, infected cuts, eyes and stomachs. As soon as Beth had rested she’d head out to help him. Father Pascal’s clinic was understaffed – until she’d volunteered with the Catholic Charities of Callivera he’d had no one but a couple of widows from the village to help. No one good at raising money, no one capable of teaching English. Father Pascal only spoke French and Spanish, which made things tricky, since Beth had only studied French and Latin in school and hadn’t done well with either. But her Spanish was coming along, almost as quickly as the children’s grasp of English. The children had stronger motivation – she showed them superhero movies and cartoons without subtitles to encourage them, and music was an even more powerful enticement. They loved hip-hop, though it still struck her as slightly odd when rail-thin, eight-year-old Manuela started singing, “what the bitches want with a …” Only fourteen year old Carlos had remained aloof, treating her with a scarcely veiled contempt that bordered on hostility. Beth pushed away from the door. Things were unnaturally still – the sprawling compound of Santa Luz was usually busy with the sound of children, with Father Pascal’s gentle drone, with the quiet chatter of the village women who’d come in to help. But now all was still, which she could only count as a blessing. Except that she couldn’t. She had good instincts, even if she’d never had to rely on them. Growing up in the cocooned atmosphere of the Pennington Pharmaceutical dynasty, she’d always had people looking out for her, money to cushion every one of life’s more unpleasant moments. Ever since she’d arrived in the tiny, war-torn country of Callivera seven months ago she’d been alert, listening for a danger that never came. It just went to show that all those years growing up with bodyguards and chauffeurs had been silly precautions. She quite desperately needed to lie down to get rid of this blistering headache. And she would. As soon as she checked on Father Pascal and made sure everything was all right. She moved through the long corridors of what was once the largest convent and mission on the eastern border of the country of Callivera. The floors were spotless, swept clear every day, though the scent of rotting vegetation was strong in the air. Most of the place was now desert

Eleventh Hour (FBI Thriller 7) Read Free From the #1 New York Times bestselling author comes Eleventh Hour. The murder of a priest leads FBI agents Sherlock and Savich to their most baffling case yet, in this riveting novel of suspense.When Father Michael Joseph is viciously murdered in his San Francisco church, his identical twin brother, FBI agent Dane Carver, along with husband-and-wife team, Savich and Sherlock, is determined to find the monster responsible. There is a witness, a homeless woman whose identity is a mystery. When "Nick" Jones comes forward, Dane finds himself in the unlikely role of bodyguard; she just might be next on the killer's list.But which killer's list?It seems Nick Jones is running from her own nightmare. In a cat-and-mouse chase that runs from the streets of San Francisco to the television studios of Los Angeles, where a brand-new show is found to have a curious connection to the murders, Dane Carver, Savich and Sherlock are in a race against time to find the madman responsible--but it's already the eleventh hour. *************** ONE SAN FRANCISCO Nick sat quietly in the midnight gloom of the nave, hunched forward, her head in her arms resting on the pew in front of her. She was here because Father Michael Joseph had begged her to come, had begged her to let him help her. The least she could do was talk to him, couldn’t she? She’d wanted to come late, when everyone else was already home asleep, when the streets were empty, and he’d agreed, even smiled at her. He was a fine man, kind and loving toward his fellow man and toward God. Would she wait? She sighed at the thought. She’d given her word, he’d made her give her word, known somehow that it would keep her here. She watched him walk over to the confessional, watched with surprise as his step suddenly lagged, and he paused a moment, his hand reaching for the small handle on the confessional door. He didn’t want to open that door, she thought, staring at him. He didn’t want to go in. Then, at last, he seemed to straighten, opened the door and stepped inside. Again, there was utter silence in the big church. The air itself seemed to settle after Father Michael Joseph stepped into that small confined space. The deep black shadows weren’t content to fill the corners of the church, they even crept down the center aisle, and soon she was swallowed up in them. There was a patch of moonlight coming through the tall stained-glass windows. It should have been peaceful, but it didn’t feel that way. There was something else in the church, something that wasn’t restful, that wasn’t remotely spiritual. She fidgeted in the silence. She heard one of the outer church doors open. She turned to see the man who was going to make his midnight confession walk briskly into the church. He looked quite ordinary, slender, with a long Burberry raincoat and thick dark hair. She watched him pause, look right and left, but he didn’t see her, she was in the shadows. She watched him walk to the co